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Francisco, goddamnit
I groaned and kept walking, the keys to my friend’s house in my hand. My car was still parked haphazardly up the driveway, the urge to see her earlier much stronger than any attempt at obeying any sort of traffic laws.
Florencia
are you on yourway?
“¿Qué querés?” I asked into the phone, clenching my jaw because this was now getting out of control. I had been able to speak to the head of PR at my firm, and they were looking into what was happening, trying to figure out where the leak was coming from and exactly what had been leaked.
“Oh, sorry,” Florencia squeaked from the other end of the line. My tone startled her, for sure. But her call caught me off guard, and I hadn’t checked who it was before answering.
I rubbed my forehead. “Perdón.”Fuck. This was going to do me in. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone from your office called me yesterday,” she said, her voice much calmer than it had been a few days ago. I had told her I was going to figure something out, and I would. It still wasn’t clear why this was happening now, especially since my sister had been dead for years. “They are coming here tomorrow. Do you think you can join me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.” She sighed. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”
“That’s what family is for,” I blurted.
“Francisco,” she said. I could picture her face, sad eyes, and a heavy expression. We were not family, not anymore.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I walked into the house and stood in the middle of the living room. The window was open, and the blinds wereslightly up, so I walked over to close them, a slight breeze coming through.
“You are not supposed to be here,” my father had said that night. His voice was all raspy and terse, the edges wrapped in tension. I was visiting Jazmín at the hospital, and I had brought a small bouquet of jasmines for her. So she could have something to keep her happy. It had been the only time he ever caught me in person and was a definite turning point in our relationship. Because it was obvious that I was blatantly defying his orders. “¿Cuántas veces te lo tengo que decir?”
How many times do I have to tell you?
“Eugenio,” I said. I had been instructed at an early age that I should call him by his name in public. Neverpapálike a normal child. “What are you doing here?”
I wanted to scream at him, warn him that he was going to get caught. But I wouldn’t do it because that would give him a leg up, and he was getting sloppy. We were standing outside her hospital room, the lights dim and the faint sounds of machines far away, tucked tightly behind closed doors.
“Cuidado,” he warned, his gaze scanning our surroundings. I was clutching the flowers like my life depended on it, the tight hold making my knuckles white and the cellophane wrapper crinkle with the tension. From the corner of my eye, I had seen Sonia leaving one of the patient rooms and heading towards the large nurses’ station in the center of the pediatrics wing. The first time I visited, she had eyedme defiantly, definitely doing her job. Neither of us knew if we could trust the other, and that had been okay. And slowly, just like everything Jazmín did, she captivated them with her charm—a trait she inherited from our father—and they let me in, welcoming me as if I were actually a part of their tiny, fragile family.
Sonia raised an eyebrow at the scene, turning her body slightly so she was facing us, one of her hands on the handheld phone they carried around with them, sometimes in their scrubs, sometimes in their palms. I shook my head slightly, letting her know everything was okay.
“You brought her flowers?” he sneered, his yellow teeth bared at me, like the action disgusted him. “Such a cliché, jasmine.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. It had always been explosive in our house, the fights getting out of control many, many times. But I tried so hard to keep my temper even for the sake of my sister and for my own sake. And I owed him no explanations. He was just my father; that was it.
“Well.” I walked past him, bumping my shoulder against his, eliciting a snarl from him. His tie was draped on his forearm, and the movement made it slide down to the floor. “Fuck off, will you?”
I looked at him for a second, his face red with agitation. “Look what you did!” he boomed. In a hospital, with sick children around. Because his tie fell on the floor.
It was at that exact moment that Lucíaopened the door to the room, eyeing us with a warning on her face, her jaw tight, like we pissed her off. She excused herself, then walked out, a team of other doctors trailing behind her towards the nurses’ station a few meters away. I followed her with my eyes, and she looked back at me, a question right on the tip of her tongue. Sonia had caught up with her and said something in her ear, making her glance at me one more time.
I turned and went inside the room, smiling at my sister. She was scowling in the bed, a magazine on her lap and her gaze lost in the pages. I closed the door softly, but she didn’t hear me come in, instead flipping the pages mindlessly as she bit her bottom lip.
“What’s the latest gossip?” I asked, trying to inject cheer into the air. She was on her third round of chemo, the days long while the treatment ran through her blood on an endless drip. Florencia had called me earlier to tell me she wasn’t able to visit her that day, so I had decided to stop by instead. We did that a lot, took turns visiting and spending time with her.
“I know he’s out there,” she said with a scowl and without looking up from the pages of the tabloids. “I can smell him from here.”
I barked out a laugh, and the corner of her mouth ticked up just a smidge, her face finally tipping up and glancing at me. She sighed dramatically, closing her magazine abruptly and pulling off the covers.
“Jaz.” I sighed. She slid her legs off the bed and arrangedher IV line, grabbing the tall rolling pole from behind the bed. She put on her slippers, then pulled at the thing, dragging it behind her and walking towards the door. “Not worth it.”
